


spirals like a staircase, racing like a car chase

by noero



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Keith (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Quiet Sex, Touch-Starved Keith (Voltron), Up to S4, Vague References to Clone!Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noero/pseuds/noero
Summary: Three days before Keith leaves the castle to join the Blades, he almost kisses Lance.Three months later, he comes back.





	spirals like a staircase, racing like a car chase

**Author's Note:**

> I was struck with the sudden image of Lance stripping Keith of his Blades Uniform and this happened. Forgive me. There might be a plot here, who knows. Title is lifted from Fleurie's _Fire In My Bones_ for no reason other than I really like that lyric.

Three days before Keith leaves the castle to join the Blades, he almost kisses Lance. They’re holed up in the castle control room while Shiro and Allura iron out an alliance treaty between them and a key planet within the Galra Empire’s trade routes. Pidge and Hunk are still peeved at Keith for missing their performance the night before and decided to explore the outdoors without him, pointedly. And Lance? Well, Lance drew the short straw and got stuck on cleaning duty for the day. 

The day is not all bad. Sunlight shines through the windows from an eerily earth-like sky above them and the warmth trickles down the castle walls. Lance lounges with his back against the Black Lion’s pod, legs sprawled out in front of him and taking up more space than necessary. He’s quietly sifting through images on his phone, occasionally sharing them with Keith as he sits just a few feet away of him with one leg folded under and swung another over the steps. They’ve just finished scrubbing down the floor under Coran’s orders, quietly enjoying the peace and quiet of the still afternoon before the others return. Their blooming companionship is awkward at times, outright tumultuous at others, but on a day like this Keith isn’t bothered at all.

The thing about Lance is he never stays mad for long. Even back when he picked fights for no reason, he’d get over it just as quickly as he got under it. Keith eventually learned to read his moods. Navigating their bizarre friendship isn’t as difficult as it often appears because Lance forgives, and forgives fully once the moment has passed. He's different from the others in that way and that fact hasn’t changed, even now. But then, because the quiet is usually too much for him, Lance speaks.

“Hey. So, question,” he starts, attention still focused on his phone. He pauses and Keith frowns because he knows what it means when Lance hesitates to speak. This is a sign he's going to embarrass himself or do something even more annoying, like _pry_. “So, um, is everything okay between you and Shiro? You’ve been… I mean you’ve always been a little distant with us...” He trails off with a soft laugh, gesturing awkwardly with his hand. Keith bristles slightly, despite himself. “I don’t know what I’m saying. You both just seem… weird lately.”

Keith frowns and crosses his arms, lips pursed. Prying it is then. Ever since Shiro returned, there’d been an odd ache in the pit of his stomach. That ache sits there like a remnant of Keith’s grief from Shiro’s absence, as though Keith can never quite make himself whole again. It’s the nagging feeling of knowing you forgot something but being unable to remember what it is. The thought that somewhere in the recess of his mind Keith willfully severed something between him and his trust in Shiro buzzes like a bee trapped between his ears. 

Somehow Keith has broken the team, shortsighted them all with his distrust. He shakes his head, trying not to bristle at the way Lance pries into his life like that. “No. Everything’s fine. Why?”

Lance meets his eyes then, lips drawn tight as he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, man. That was a weird thing to say. Don’t worry about it. I was just talking.”

Keith swallows, something in him wanting to broach the topic but unable to find the words. It’s not like Lance isn’t prone to abrupt outbursts or inappropriate questions but something deep inside Keith cracks a little because he knows Lance isn’t wrong. Believing what’s easiest to swallow isn’t always what’s true. Only he can't speak.

They fall back into silence but Keith catches himself drawn to the lines of Lance’s face, bathed in pink-tinged sunlight. He studies the way his nose crinkles, a sign he’s disappointed in himself, and Keith _wants_ to say something, do something, to make it right. The good parts of Lance never change, enough that Keith can forgive the ugly parts.

Lance glances back at him, a secret glance that Keith catches. His face shifts somewhere between embarrassment and something Keith can’t identify. Keith’s chest feels airy and his heart flutters, head swimming. He could lean in just a bit, close that distance and touch Lance’s face. He wants to kiss Lance because kissing Lance would be painfully simple, like drinking a glass of water or standing in the rain. Instead Keith looks down, closes his eyes, and tugs at his hair to keep his hands distracted less he do something ridiculous like reach out to hold Lance's hand. 

Because the sudden urge to pull Lance into that quiet, empty ache is too intrusive and he’s too undeserving. Keith pretends it didn't happen.

* * *

Time plays a cruel trick on Keith or maybe it's the uneasy quiet of the Blade's ships at odds with memories of the Castle's constant chatter. Despite all his best efforts, the lingering memory of that day with Lance sits on Keith’s chest each time he wakes for weeks on end. Three months have passed when he returns to the castle. The hour is late into the team’s sleep cycle and halls are silent except for the quiet engine buzz. The thought nags at him still, calls to him. He’s not visited once because everything is all still a little too fresh. Keith tells himself - desperately tries to convince himself - he doesn’t know why he's back now. 

And because he knows what he _wants_ he’s at Shiro’s doorway first, hand hovering in place, wanting to knock but holding himself back. It’d be easier this way. He knows Shiro will let him in, whatever remaining frustration pushed aside in favor of unabashed support. Keith can count on him that way. He imagines Shiro letting him in, no questions asked. Keith could crawl into his bed, curl up, go to sleep, and act like he doesn’t know why he really came. 

Making decisions terrifies Keith, more than risking his life for a war that so far removed from him he no longer knows who he is. His life is full of choices but he hates making them when he knows their effects ripple beyond him. So, it’d be easier - better - to let Shiro make this decision but he’s struck with that lingering doubt that fills the hole in his chest each time he speaks to Shiro. 

He’s turned and down the hallway, tapping against Lance’s door before he can change his mind. Lance answers too quickly, and Keith recoils on instinct. Lance’s blue robe is secured around him and Pidge’s headphones lay around his neck, but the hulls beneath his eyes are dark and his expression alert. He wasn’t asleep, Keith is certain, which concerns him for reasons he knows it shouldn’t. 

Lance frowns, brow furrowed and eyes trailing down Keith’s body. His face is tight in that way it gets when he’s desperately trying to stay angry but the anger has long since run its course. That face happens to be the first thing about Lance that Keith decided he sorta-almost liked. He wishes, however, there had been perhaps a hint of surprise. 

He swallows, the words he’d rehearsed on the way falling out of reach. “Hey.” 

Lance’s lips tug upward, just a fraction, and he crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight. He answers with a tiny nod, just a bit cautious beneath the bravado and he leans heavy on the door frame. Somehow his posture translates how badly he wants to _loom_ , and it’s almost comical. “Hey.” 

Silence lays over them then, thick and weighted. With nothing to focus on, Keith’s fingers begin to fidget at his side. He feels like an idiot, every bit as awkward and misplaced as he felt walking into the Garrison registration office years earlier. This shouldn’t be so hard. He motions toward the doorway, “Can I… Can you...” 

“Uh,” Lance raises his eyebrows, “Invite you in? Come on dude, it’s 3 AM. We didn’t turn your bedroom into a game room just yet. Why do you need mine?” 

Keith gives him a withering look, wishing he didn’t try to make everything an argument. He holds his ground, frowning at Lance and feeling more than displaced in the hall clad in his Blade uniform. This is where he could leave it, but Keith refuses. Not tonight. He’s too unsure and too alone. 

Lance gives in. He sighs and waves Keith in, going on about something Keith doesn’t catch because Keith rushes Lance the moment the door shuts behind him. Keith allows his body to drive him over rational side of his mind, fingers grasping firm onto Lance’s waist as he backs further into the room. One more step into Lance’s space and Keith’s armor slaps against Lance’s chest, the momentum pushing them further toward the bed. Keith tilts his head up and the same airy flutter spurs in his chest again, only this time fueled as much by adrenaline as loneliness. 

Lance makes a startled sound at the move. His hands land defensively on Keith’s shoulders but he stops short of pushing Keith away. Something about the air between them is magnetic and surely Lance knows that too. Keith grabs hold of Lance’s jaw, angling him where he wants him but stopping just shy of letting them touch. 

“About this...” Keith murmurs, their lips only a hair’s breadth apart. He knows he's not in a place to demand anything from Lance, but he's hanging by very little and so he tries. “Don’t say anything. Don’t tell anyone I came here tonight.” 

“Yeah, um,” Lance titters and a sudden shift flutters across his features, an almost imperceptible flash of distress before he shrugs. “Come on, man. This kinda came out of nowhere. Who’d even believe me?” 

Keith hums, the familiarity of Lance’s voice bringing him a small measure of peace, and chases that final breath between them. It's fine, then. He kisses Lance with every ounce of tenderness as he can summon, worrying over his cracks and edges. The motion is a stark contrast to his previous tactic but Keith’s body is still moving on autopilot, like his body knows what he wants better than his mind. He notes how soft Lance’s lips feel against his own as they move almost shyly toward him. Keith’s hand finds purchase on the back of Lance’s neck. Their first kiss plays out like that, shaky, slow, and just a little curious. 

When Keith pulls back he takes hold of Lance’s right hand from where it still lays nervously at his shoulder. The room is dim with blue light dancing along Lance’s jaw and the comforting drum of the castle. He's gone this far and he wont back down now. “Good? Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Lance’s reply comes out an incredulous whisper, his eyes full of questions. He swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, fingers trembling just slightly when Keith pulls them to his lips. He kisses the crease of Lance’s palm and down his bare wrist. Keith is sure now. 

“So we’re, uh…” Lance smiles awkwardly, visibly blushing even in the soft night light. He’s confused, Keith decides, but not unhappy. “We’re actually doing this now?” 

“You can do whatever. I just... kinda miss…” Keith sighs, free hand reaching down to tug at the ties of Lance’s pajamas. All Keith knows is he needs contact, however he can get it. “Kinda miss the warmth.” 

“Yeah. _The warmth_ ,” Lance’s fingers work their way into the hinges of Keith’s armor, unlatching each clasp and pulling it loose, letting it fall. His lips find their way to Keith’s neck, smiling against his skin. He unhooks the guards on Keith’s forearms and then the his belt lands on the floor. It could take only seconds, minutes, or even an hour for all Keith knows. Lance’s voice is only a gentle murmur, “So level with me, Keith. I’m still doing the math. There's four other doors you could’a knocked on.” 

“Mm. Glad to hear you can still count.” 

Lance chuckles but the expected offense never comes. That's the reality of this. Lance digs out Keith’s honesty without event trying. In truth, Keith misses the illusion of safety. He misses being able to trick himself into believing he had somewhere to call home. He misses _Red_. He can feel her thrumming somewhere beneath Lance’s skin, deep down in the beat of his pulse and he’s certain Lance has no clue. So, he closes his eyes, stays still, and lets Lance remove his uniform piece by piece all dropped somewhere behind him. 

He just misses. 

The words, however, still won't come. They act instead. Lance maneuvers him to his bed and Keith goes willingly, stripped down to his underwear. Fingertips brush between Keith’s ribs and Lance breaks the kiss, murmuring something indistinguishable against his skin, With newfound confidence, Lance flips them over so Keith is on his back. He settles one knee between Keith’s legs and runs his hands over Keith’s chest, down his waist, and over the jut of his hip-bones. Tucked away in the castle, time blurs together, Keith stranded between two points. Somewhere in the confusion, Lance’s robe is gone and so is his shirt. The pads of Keith’s fingers explore the bare planes of Lance’s shoulders, between the dips of muscle, and across his shoulder blades, every move punctuated by shallow kisses. 

This is too fast and not fast enough. 

They’re both breathing heavy and Keith if is fully hard, barely concealed beneath this underwear. How did they never know? This is as natural as anything they’ve ever done. Keith is as comforted as the first time Lance backed him up when he first piloted the Black Lion and he hates it took this long. This need to touch - to _feel_ \- is instinctual and Keith knows he’ll crave it again and again. Beneath that old touch of frustration, or mutual obstinance, there had always been something deeper maybe, a base desire too simple for them to notice. 

Keith jolts when Lance’s palm rubs down his cock to cup his balls, pulling him from his daydream. Lance’s own erection grinds against Keith’s hip, shameless in his pursuit of pleasure and it’s so utterly _Lance_ that it only spurs Keith further down, down, down whatever hole he's dug. He helps Lance pull down his boxers, not the least bit shy about his nakedness, and only wanting _more_. His fingers card through Lance’s hair as Lance lays kisses down his stomach, into his navel, and to the juncture of his hips. 

When Lance places a wet kiss to the side of Keith’s cock, he might melt into the mattress. They slow down again, all the silent, experimental touches fading between bouts of desperation. Lance grabs Keith’s hand as he takes him into his mouth, fingers lacing together. The gesture is intimate, the touch personal in a terrifying way. Keith can only squeeze back. 

Lance’s other hand grips at the meat of Keith’s right thigh while his tongue works around his shaft. “Your hand,” Keith grits out. “ _Lower_. Please.” 

Lance pulls off for a second trying to withdraw his hand from Keith’s, confused when Keith doesn’t let loose. He nudges Lance with his right leg and realization dawns on Lance, letting out a soft _Oh_. He lets go crawls back up to kiss Keith wetly with perfectly swollen lips, an awkward move with their hands still intertwined. Keith breaks the grip so Lance can prop himself up on his free arm and maneuver two fingers between Keith’s lips when they part. 

“Good boy,” Lance breathes against his temple and Keith’s cock gives a rude jerk at the words. He rolls slightly toward Lance in retaliation and shoves a hand into his pajama pants, gripping him hard. Lance exhales with a shaky moan as Keith strokes him, greedily sucking on his fingers. This was a dangerous idea. “Yeah, okay. That’s good. Really--Ah- Good.” 

When he’s had enough, Lance pulls his hand back pushes Keith back down on the mattress. He settles himself back between Keith’s legs, pulling his knees up. Keith shuts his eyes while Lance trails his wet fingers down and over his perineum, to ghost over the rim of his hole. Lance’s touch is shy, cautiously slow. They're not close enough. Keith swallows, “Any day now Lance.” 

Lance sighs and his free hand squeezes Keith’s right knee, pushing his legs a little further open. Lance eases one finger just barely inside and Keith’s legs tremble, his abdomen flexing. The initial burn fades quickly and Keith relaxes beneath Lance’s touch. After a few minutes, he squeezes in a second finger, carefully watching Keith’s face for any sign of discomfort. This is all they can do tonight, but it’s enough. 

“You okay?” Lance drops a his free hand beside Keith’s head so he can shift his weight and press their foreheads together. He doesn’t stop the gentle rhythm of his fingers. “Not too much is it?” 

Keith is breathing heavy, brows knitting together, eyes opening and drifting closed along with each thrust of Lance’s hand. “Mm. No. It's... good.” 

At the affirmation Lance’s fingers explore freely, bending and pushing until Keith’s back arches with a sharp intake of air. Keith’s eyes are shut but he can feel Lance’s soft smile against his cheek, lips moving along with a low, raspy, and desperate voice. “Right there?” 

Keith nods, something in his belly coiling at Lance’s tone. Again Lance pushes his fingers upward to find that same spot again, probing until Keith’s body jerks, mouth falling open in a silent moan. He’s played with himself before, enough to be familiar with the mechanics, but this is different. The sensation is powerful and raw with the biggest part of that control left in someone else’s hands. Keith exhales, hips moving along with Lance’s ministrations and fingers digging into the sheets at his side. There’s nothing to do but lay back and enjoy the feeling. By accident, his eyes flutter open only to find Lance staring at him with an awed expression. 

“You’re…” Lance bites his lip, eyes trained on Keith. Focused. Sure. “You’re really... quiet.” 

Keith turns his head to the side stubbornly, breaking their eye contact just as quickly as he found it. Lance laughs and nuzzles him just below his ear, nosing his head back over so they’re looking at each other again. Lance is smiling -- wide and stupid. “S’okay. It’s kinda hot. Like the faces you make.” He twists his fingers upward and brushes Keith’s prostate again, making his hips jump. “You’re enjoying yourself, right?” 

“Yeah,” Keith’s voice comes out higher than he expects and another wave of embarrassment passes over until Lance gives him a languid kiss. “You’re-- You’re pretty good at this.” 

Lance pulls back to his knees and Keith misses the heat of their close proximity, until Lance’s other hand grips his cock, stroking in a languid motion. “I’ve… done some research.” 

Keith frowns, still canting his hips in tune with Lance’s hands despite a sudden string of misplaced indignation. He’s mostly just surprised. “You’ve-- You’ve been with someone before?” 

“Well,” Lance rolls his eyes. “ _Technically_ , I’m a virgin. I meant actual research, you know? Read some articles and how-to guides because I thought I might need to know someday. Never imagined _you’d_ be the one to reap the benefits... but, you know, life is weird I guess.” 

Lance’s thumb pushes against the underside of Keith’s cockhead before running over the tip. Keith breathes out long and low, body shuddering. “Less… talking. _Please_.” 

They keep up like that, Lance’s fingers teasing as they slide in and out and his other hand working up and down his cock. Keith’s breathing becomes more and more erratic, hands grasping desperately at the sheets. It’s good, too good. His hips jolt upwards, out of Lance’s rhythm, but too desperate to care. He comes with a soft noise, spilling out over his belly. Lance continues to grind against his hip and they watch each other, eyes focused and clear, until Lance falls forward and h’s voice breaks against Keith’s shoulder. The sound echoing down Keith’s spine as Lance comes, hips stuttering against Keith’s leg as the fabric of his pajamas grows warm. 

When they can move again they kiss one last time, slow and wet. Lance smiles against Keith’s mouth. “Welcome back.” 

* * *

They shower together that night and Lance tells Keith about the planets they’ve visited and the new allies they made. Keith listens, dangling close to falling into those words, because he has no joyful stories to tell. Keith hates making decisions because the path he chooses is always the hardest, and it falls apart when he’s faced with dragging someone else down with him. Regret is one step away. 

Keith toes that edge. 

Lance looks surprised when Keith crawls into bed with him, but doesn’t say a word. He silently shuffles toward the wall and turns on his side to make more room. Keith might _belong_ here or he might not. He won’t decide. 

“I need to leave soon,” Keith says, tucking his nose against the base of Lance’s neck. 

“No, you don’t,” Lance says, because for him it’s that simple. They both know it won’t matter. 

Their legs tangle beneath the blankets and Keith’s fingertips wander across Lance’s stomach, the sinewy muscles contracting beneath his touch. Neither of them worry, for just a minute here in the quiet. Keith tells himself he can come back any time, find something in Lance to fill that ache because maybe it’s working. This is as familiar a sensation as Keith can construct. 

Until Keith remembers whatever he forgot, that thought - that lingering doubt - sleeping somewhere in the back of his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. ❤
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://bottomshiro.tumblr.com) to see my selfies, meme posts, and rants over my undying love of Keith.


End file.
